Blood seeped from his lips and onto the ground as he tossed the body aside and ran.
The cloaked figure knew if he was swift he might reach the border before the sun rose, perhaps even a little before.
The King has to know. The Prophecy of the Heroines is true. The second verse rang in his mind, carved into every being save for the humans of this dimension. The first had been found. The vampires were next.
FORTY-SEVEN
Violet
Tonight was Ad Infinitum. Tonight, I was the sacrifice.
I wrapped my arms tight around myself. It would not be long now. John stood beside me, hands clasped behind his back as we both leaned against the wall, just waiting. The doors to the entrance hall were thrown wide open, the butlers stood silently beside several footmen dressed in their smartest black and silver uniforms, complete with powdered wigs.
My legs were bare, as were my arms and shoulders. The tattered, fraying white dress hardly provided warmth – it was made from layers of a scratchy, rough material and coarse lace, held up only by thin straps. It fell to just above my knees, with my feet encased in flimsy white ribbon and petite little ballet-like shoes, which made my enormous feet seem to shrink.
My hair fell about my shoulders, left to dry naturally, just as instructed on the card left in my room that morning. It fell in waves, frizzy and unkempt and beginning to form ringlets. I wore no jewellery, no perfume and no make-up.
‘I hate waiting,’ John said. It was a simple enough statement, but it cut through the air like a knife.
‘I hate this.’ I barely muttered the words, but he heard.
‘So do I, and I don’t get bitten like you.’ This man, almost twenty years my senior, was clearly afraid of the family I would wager his love had taught him to fear. Already his loose linen shirt was sticky with sweat and his face was flushed. He wiped his brow, leaning against the marble wall. ‘At least I have a reason for being here. You—’
‘Are being punished? Yeah, I know.’ Again I chuckled awkwardly. ‘But it means I have a chance to see those who still don’t think I’m scum.’ I shrugged my shoulders, eyes focused on the door that would soon open.
‘I’m sorry.’
That I did not expect. I stood up straighter. ‘For what?’
He did not answer straight away as footsteps, echoing, were heard from the corridor that led deeper into the mansion. They faded again.
‘For them treating you like this.’
My fists clenched. ‘I’m used to it.’
‘You shouldn’t have to be.’
I had no answer to that, especially as the doors to the ballroom began to open, sending a surge of nerves through the pit of my stomach. I blinked a few times – the light of a thousand flickering candles lit the massive room – some burning blue, others orange. Black drapes framed the cathedral-like windows, the view through each pane of glass just as dark. The white marble of the walls, flecked with gold was cast in shadow, the tall pillars seeming to stretch into forever above the thousands of vampires – and it was thousands, all still. Perfectly, eerily still. Some were frozen in dance, some with drinks in hand, some poised to descend the stairs of the balcony that we would soon walk.
They all wore the colours and livery of their families, dark colours, mostly; immaculate make-up and smoked eyes, feathers, beads and withering lilies entwined in the hair of the women, swords hung at the hips of the men.
Waiters, frozen too, balanced trays carrying flutes of a red liquid that could only be blood, some tiny squares of raw, fleshy meat. Like the butlers, they also wore powdered wigs, stark against the gloom of the room.
But more stunning were the flowers tumbling in chains from the ceiling – roses, black roses with white leaves, strung together and hung from the beams far above the frozen spectacle below. They grew down the pillars and the far walls, some even wrapped around the King’s black throne. Rows of them decorated the tables upon which punch bowls and wine bottles sat, petals strewn between the platters of food. Some were draped from the chandelier and a few had been tied to the stands of the orchestra, so large it occupied most of the far end of the room. They were the only occupants of the room not immobile, the music still flowing from their instruments. A woman clad in red, beautiful beyond comprehension stood at their head, also still.
‘Violet,’ John said, his eyes never leaving the scene in front of us. ‘Only become a vampire for the right reasons. Don’t be swayed.’
The music swelled and drowned whatever else he had to say out, and I refused to answer a statement that felt so oddly honest.
I walked forward, focusing on each and every step, trying not to shake, not wanting the fear and pressure to show. My hands felt the air in front of me, grabbing, clinging and clenching the banister of the small balcony that overlooked the ballroom, my eyes surveying the occupants with what should have been faked fear.
They were all as still as statues, immaculate and elegantly poised. But their torsos were tense, their arms stiff, like a hunter ready to pounce. My eyes darted about the room, looking for a characteristic pierce of emerald eye, or a smirk, my heart frozen as the couples were, but preparing itself to leap.
Not there. Something in my head told my heart to prepare itself for disappointment, and it sunk.
Suddenly, the couple below us began to move, whirling in an elegant waltz, never breaking hold. They circled the couple nearest them who in turn began to move, who circled the next, the hem of her dress brushing the foot of the staircase I would soon descend. Again and again the couples circled, around and around, more and more unfreezing. I watched, stunned, as the room awakened in a great wave, gathering momentum and moving away from us, continually whirling and spinning. It was like a machine coming alive, the cogs turning, faster and faster in time to the music. It did not stop, spreading further and further, sprawling outwards in all directions.
Distracted, I saw colour in the corner of my eye and turned towards the orchestra. The woman, tall, elegant, curvaceous – perfect – stepped forward, her red dress bright and vibrant compared to the rest of the room. As she moved, so did the rest of the room; those not dancing who had remained still shifted in one fluid movement, forming an oval, large; inescapable.
Only those at the very far end of the room near the throne remained in their places. But the wave was rushing closer, the dance gradually becoming more elegant, more complicated, more embellished.
I felt a single bead of sweat roll down my neck as I stared at the vampires there. They all wore black with emerald sashes. The Varns. My hand clutched tighter around the banister. There were fifty, maybe sixty of them, and that just a fraction of all the vampires in attendance. I spotted Lyla amongst the sea of black and emerald, lumbered with the same partner she had complained so bitterly about at the last ball.
A surge of sudden and irrational anger shot through me. If she had snared Fabian, then she should at least be dancing with him. I spotted him too, not far away, dressed in dark blue. I knew that wasn’t how this worked, but it felt so wrong.
Deeper within the throng was the King with the same partner I had seen him with at the Autumnal Equinox. Her expression was as impassive as his. They were still. The rest of his family surrounded them and my eyes desperately searched, looking for him. The room continued to spin and I spotted a flash of yellow hair that looked like it belonged to Charity, and another figure that I could have sworn was Kaspar’s ex, Charlotte. Jag was frozen, a girl that was not Mary in his arms, Sky with Arabella wrapped and held close beside him. Cain was there as well, his partner a girl I thought might be a cousin – he had joked that the ball was a keep-it-in-the-family affair. Even Thyme was in attendance – she was not dancing but waiting at the edge of the ring, her tiny fangs resting against her pink lips, curled into a small smile. But I could not see him.
The music quietened; the room hushed. Heads turned towards us, standing on the little balcony. The candles in the chandelier far above faltered as a breeze, icy and bitter, sw
ept in through the open doors behind us, stirring my dress and tousling John’s hair. I wanted to turn to see where it came from – I knew the main entrance was open but no draft was that cold. I never had the chance.
An arm had latched itself around my middle as the force of a body slammed me into the banister, pinning me to the marble. I felt the air leaving my lungs in a rush and I closed my eyes, winded, taking involuntary gulps of air. The pain clutched at my ribs but I had bigger trouble – a second arm had grabbed my wrist and I felt my feet leaving the floor. Instinctively my eyes burst open again and I lashed out, kicking and clawing only to stop again.
The music was rising and as one, the Varns awoke. En masse, the room glided as a sea of black and green, rising and falling to the unnerving notes, drawn out and only becoming more ferocious. My eyes never left the scene as I was half-dragged, half-carried down the stairs, tripping and falling, perhaps screaming; I would not know above the music. We reached the bottom and as I fell forwards, unable to stop, the same arm caught me. As it snatched me back I caught sight of the sleeve; it was one of the butlers.
John appeared beside me, held by another one of the butlers, struggling and fear, real fear in his eyes. Both of us knew what was coming but nothing could prepare me for the sickening jolt as the nearest couple broke apart, small smiles on both their lips. The man, quite young by vampire standards smiled, mouth widening to reveal two perfectly chiselled incisors that marked him as the hunter; us as the prey.
With his nod, we were thrown to the sea.
The room filled with sound, noise not music, a screeching, blood-curdling shriek filling the room, coming from the mouth of the woman I had thought beautiful. I flew through the air, tossed towards the young vampire who caught me in his arms. I smacked hard into his chest, hair over my eyes and one of the ribbons of my shoes slipping down to my ankles. But I barely had time to gasp before he had flung me backwards over his arm, his open mouth lowering towards my neck. He swept the hair from my shoulders, his breath reeking of blood and wine. My eyelids quivered as I saw a flash of white, John, passing me, enclosed in the arms of the woman. I closed my eyes, feeling his hands roam towards the hem of my dress … The music peaked and I was back upright, the blood draining from my head in one dizzying moment. I felt myself being pushed away, into another’s arms who threw me backwards, this new vampire’s reddened eyes coming ever closer to my still exposed neck. I sucked in a breath, wanting to cover my ears, block out the shrieking but I couldn’t; they were pinned to my side and the sick, dizzy feeling was getting ever stronger.
In a blink I was back on my feet and I felt the flush leaving my cheeks. A hand was placed on the small of my back and I was pushed to the next; John was sucked away in a mass of whirling silk and satin. I gulped down a breath of air as once again I was launched back to rest in the crux of yet another arm …
I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to look as I was passed from one vampire to another. I felt lace and muslin graze my exposed skin, tripping over my feet and falling, stumbling from one to another, new arms supporting me as fresh fangs lowered to my neck, throat, shoulders …
But they would not bite. I knew they would not bite. Yet it did not alleviate the feeling that I was bait amidst sharks, being torn apart, slowly and cruelly.
It stopped. The room froze once more and the music hushed. The couples around us – although it felt more like me, because only the freezing breath on my neck gave away the fact that I was not held by a statue – paused mid-step, becoming still again. My back was arched, the tip of my hair brushing the floor. I could feel my chest heaving and I screwed my eyes shut; I wanted to scream, it seemed so unfair.
A drum sounded and the music surged, the rhythm faster, the beat making my ribs pound as though a thousand stampeding horses were thrashing their way from one lung to another; with the drum I was upright again, swallowing back bile. The vampire who held me let out a heavy sigh and I started to turn towards him; in a flash he had placed both his hands on my shoulders and rammed me backwards. My mouth was wide open as I was flung away, watching as he was swallowed by the whirling figures.
As I was enclosed in waiting arms, I felt my temperature soar, my skin was flaming and flushing. Perhaps it was because I recognized the colour of the sleeve around my middle, crimson, and knew the emblem etched into the cuff links or perhaps it was because I could feel a tiny vial pressing into my back.
‘We meet at last, Violet Lee.’
I swallowed hard, knowing exactly who this was. ‘You’re Ilta’s father.’
‘That’s the Earl of Wallachia to you, human scum,’ he hissed in my ear, throwing me back over his arm just as the others had done but with so much force I heard my joints click. My head dangled just inches from the floor – I could feel the cool marble as I stared into a pair of dark blue eyes. His lips pursed in disgust and I thought he might be considering dropping me onto the hard floor. I would not mind: his touch was sickening; unclean; it left scorch marks on my shoulders and in the palms of my hands.
‘Your son was the scum, Crimson.’
He snarled at that, his mouth lowering to my ear. ‘My son was doing this Kingdom a favour when he tried to rid it of you and your impurity. Your little Prince should have rewarded him that day, not killed him.’ He opened his mouth a little wider and a single fang pressed to my neck.
I shuddered. His breath left a dirty trail behind, one that could not be washed away. ‘What are you doing here? You were banished.’
He laughed: the laugh of someone who knew they stood on the higher ground. ‘The King revoked his decision almost immediately. It seems I, like my son, know too much to be forgotten. I am of great use to them, you see.’
‘How?’
‘To put it plainly, little girl, I know too much about the Dark Heroines and I know too much about your future.’
Abruptly he pulled me upright, but before he could push me away I grabbed his arm. ‘What do you know?’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘That you don’t deserve the path destiny has created for you.’
‘Path? And what are the Dark—’
Before I could finish he had wrenched my arm from his and tossed me away, leaving me sickened and confused, but more than that, intrigued. That in itself was revolting. I should want to be far away from this man, but instead I wanted to return and get answers.
Vampire after vampire caught me and as I got closer to the throne I began to recognize more and more faces. Charlie, Declan and Felix had all had their turns mishandling me, Declan depressed, his eyes transfixed on a demure girl not too far away. Alex had winked with a friendly smile on his lips; his younger brother Lance was a little too friendly.
Fathers, sons and brothers of the vampires I had come to know all took their turn, mocking the bite coming ever closer. Izaak Logan had been by far the gentlest, whilst Fabian, his expression cold and distant, had averted his gaze and even dug his nails into my sides to the point where I thought they might draw blood.
It was your fault, Fabian, I thought. You made it Kaspar or you. You pushed me away.
I was incredibly near the Varns now and had figured that it worked in ascending rank; the only person standing between me and royalty was Eaglen, who snatched me with the strength of a much younger man.
Yet again, we paused mid-dance. My head was dangling precariously close to the floor and the couples that just a second ago had surrounded us seemed to disappear. Stars danced in front of my eyes but I kept them open, transfixed. A high window, cathedral-like in its construction was reflecting the eerie spectacle below of which I was the victim. According to the glass, the room was completely empty, save for two pasty, wide-eyed figures dressed in white. One had his arms pinned behind his back, totally rigid apart from his head which was lolling at an awkward, painful angle. The other was suspended mid-air, back arched, her feet just brushing the floor.
I closed my eyes for a second, stunned at what I was seeing. When I looked back at the glass, it reflected real
ity – a room packed with people.
I wouldn’t fret, mortal child, because soon your decision will be made for you. My skin ran cold – colder than it already was. It was Eaglen’s voice in my head; in my mind that I could supposedly guard and had done quite successfully against any other.
Get out … I started but was unable to finish as stars blinked behind my closed eyelids. I really needed to stand up or sit down; either would be better than being caught halfway between.
The music crashed. I screamed and had no choice as I was yanked upright again; swaying, blood slipping down towards my feet and making them tingle. There were no other colours but emerald and black. I wanted to close my eyes, but I was afraid of what I could not see: sunken eyes and rough hands on my back, no compassion, no leniency, just hatred for a girl who had slept with their Prince and heir.
Faces, old and young, faster and faster, the music gaining momentum as the shrieks of the woman and the choir matched the pitch of my screams. My mind raced, almost keeping pace with my body, thrown from one to another. I longed for the bite, but only for it to be over.
Cain; a glimpse of Arabella seizing John who was taken away because he would not be bitten; Jag looked worried but his eyes were not focused in my direction; Sky fought to restrain me as I struggled, eyes to the floor, refusing to look. I knew it came ever closer, but at the same time I knew the hierarchy and who should be next.
I finally raised my eyes. A circle was forming, a circle of swirling, whirling couples. In its centre was the King, his partner abandoned in favour of me. She was standing close by, her usually serene expression twisted with bloodlust as her eyes bore into me.
Two people broke from the circle, their backs to me. Both were dressed in black, emerald sashes around their shoulders. One wore a long sweeping dress, backless, lace floating about her ankles. Her hair was twisted into a knot; a flower, just like those dangling from the pillars, was tucked in-between the loose strands. The other was a man wearing court dress, sword hanging at his hip, his dark hair dishevelled.